Like Sand Through A Sieve

One day, as I was out and about with a four year old Jack and a two year old Creed, I acquired a copy of Walt Disney's "Mary Poppins." We arrived home that afternoon, popped the DVD in and pressed play. I remembered very little about the film from my youth. Something about dancing cartoon penguins and a song about a kite and that was it. I wasn't prepared for the huge impact that the family, the nanny, and the chimney sweep would have on my parenting style and my views about childhood. Granted, I was expecting a little girl (Stella!) at the time so a casual observer could chalk my reaction up to hormones, but a more studied look would possibly (hopefully) lead to a different conclusion.

Our Family, Summer 2003 (I think)

Right from the beginning, I was uncomfortable with how much I related to the Mrs. Banks character and her obsession with being involved with a worthy cause. (Let it be known that I am truly grateful for the suffragettes and my right to vote since that is what Mrs. Banks was busy fighting for.) I had a church calling that was time consuming, I was waiting tables three to four nights each week, and I was also on a community council that ate up many hours of my week. All while Robert was knee deep in his 2nd and 3rd year of Medical School and was rarely (if ever) home while the children or I were awake. I was involved in several good and necessary endeavors but I was constantly pushing my family's needs closer and closer to the bottom of my "to-do" list. I felt irritated when I was finally home with a moment to myself and my sweet, amazing boys started tugging on my clothes or climbing all over me. I had been attempting to compartmentalize and schedule my time with them and as a result I was never really present with them in the moment. 

So we watched Mary Poppins together and for me it was like 

"ZIP!" 

"BANG!" 

"POP!" 

"Pay ATTENTION, Lizzie!"

Remember how Mr. Banks was so upset with Jane and Michael because of their behavior at the bank? Remember how Michael just wanted to give his tuppence to the bird lady but Mr. Banks was trying to impress the bankers and make him invest it? And then the children ran away and ended up on the rooftops of London and eventually all the chimney sweeps in town swooped through the Banks household and Mr. Banks got fired from his job and he became more and more infuriated but he just couldn't quite pinpoint the reason? Remember how he tried to blame Mary Poppins for all of his troubles?

"It's that Poppins woman!" He said.

"My world was calm, well-ordered, exemplary.
Then came this woman, with chaos in her wake.
And now my life's ambitions go with one fell-blow.
It's quite a bitter pill to take."

Bert was there, dusting the mantle, and the camera settled on his face and his words and the lighting and all the Disney magic created the perfect storm for me to hug my boys and cry into their hair and breathe them in.

"You're a man of 'igh position.
Esteemed by your peers
And when your little tykes are cryin'
You 'aven't time to dry their tears. ...."

This is the part that I continually sing to myself, ten years later:

"....You've got to grind, grind, grind, at that grindstone.
Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve.
And all too soon they've up and grown,
And then they've flown,
 And it's too late for you to give
Just that spoon full of sugar to 'elp the medicine go down."

I know it's just a movie, and a pretty cheesy one at that, but this was the first really pivotal moment in my parenting style. All at once I realized that childhood is fleeting and someday my boys wouldn't be climbing into my lap, telling me stories, craving my attention.  I didn't have the luxury of being able to cut anything out of my schedule (I was getting paid for everything I was doing, except for church. Unless you count blessings) but I committed to be more present with my family. I committed to make eye contact with my babies and to really listen to them and pay close attention.

I realized that whatever I accomplish and no matter how involved in my community I get, my life's ambition is to raise my children and provide them with a home filled with love and service.

It's what I chose all those years ago and it's what I choose every day.

I'm no Mary Poppins, but since my viewing of that movie all those years ago I have strived to make their days more magical, more wonderful, and more filled with joy and play than before. When I'm distracted and they try to talk to me, I stop what I'm doing and pay attention. When I'm making dinner or cleaning house or doing homework and they want to be near me, I try to remember that childhood slips like sand through a sieve and it is a privilege to be the one who gives them that spoonful of sugar as they have to swallow the medicine inevitably prescribed by life.

Daffodil Moments

Last year I wrote about daffodil moments, and my blog is full of them. Here is the story of the origins of the phrase.

Teacups: 2011

Two and a half years ago I was standing in line with my kids waiting for our turn to ride the Teacups at Disneyland. It was February and we had driven to the Magic Kingdom from Iowa. Iowa is miserable in February. If there is any redeeming quality about Iowa during the month of February, I never found it. Iowa February is bitter cold, icy winds, and snow on my lawn that has been there since Thanksgiving. Needless to say, the blossoms and blooms that abound in Southern California's early spring were a delightfully uplifting reprieve. Even the older boys were finding joy in the splendor of spring.

2011: Stella had no interest in meeting princesses (believe me, I tried) she just wanted to meet the classic characters

Where was I? Oh, yes, the teacups. I was standing in line at the Teacups shuffling kids along their way so that we didn't let the space in front of us get so big that it started to bother the people behind us. That was where Stella noticed the daffodils. She started tugging on my jacket and pointing out the yellow trumpets and before I knew it she was reciting the poem "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth.

From memory.

I couldn't believe it. My little first grader had taken it upon herself to read and memorize poetry. Oh be still my heart. If there was ever a moment that I felt justified in my book-buying habit that was it.

2011: Love these kids

I think about that experience a lot. I return to it again and again. Since then, she and I have coined the phrase "Daffodil Moments" for times when we feel joyful and grateful. Sometimes we look at each other knowingly and one of us says with a smile "daffodil moment." Daffodil Moments are times that we don't want to forget, moments that we want to file away in our memory so we may access them when we are feeling "vacant" or "pensive" so that our hearts can be filled with pleasure and "dance with the daffodils" just like Mr. Wordsworth's.

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. 

William Wordsworth

Life Happens

Thoughts and ideas float around the edges of my days, waiting to materialize and find their way into the universe. This record of my family, my children, and our daily life is more important to me than is evident by the attention it gets. 

We have been busy living and enjoying life.

However.

I don't want to be so busy living my life that I neglect to record just how fantastic life is.

And it really is. Fantastic.

Lucy Pearl was born on April 25. She has changed our family in many wonderful ways. She has softened the edges of my surly teenager and she has forced the five year old to look beyond his own needs.

Lucy Pearl Rose on her birthday 

 On Mother's Day, we revisited a favorite place: Cathedral Gorge. I took a Geology class last semester and bored delighted everyone with fun facts as we explored this Nevada State Park. The kids were excited to give me all their handmade gifts which included a cheese board from Jack, a coupon book from Stella, a card from Creed and I can't remember what George's gift was. Give me a break! Lucy was barely two weeks old and I was still in zombie-state. It was probably a picture that he drew.

Mother's Day 2013: Cathedral Gorge

Jack was in 8th grade this year. He was in the Math Club. Every Wednesday he woke up super early and went to school to practice math. They made it all the way to the State Competition! I love it when he gets his guitar out in the evenings and plays for us. I'm excited that I'm not "heavy with child" anymore so that I can let him whip my butt on the tennis court, too. Also, his shoe size is 11 1/2 and he is super tall. He wants his own room. He qualified for all the Honors classes at the high school. Yikes.

Creed. Oh, my little man. Every single day he arrived home from school with a huge smile on his face. He loved 6th grade. Science is his favorite subject. He is still passionate about art, dragons, and Benjamin Franklin. He entered a film in his school's film festival and wore his Hobbit Cloak to the viewing event. He got contacts and was able to put them in and take them out on the first try without any help. He played on a soccer team with and against kids twice his size. He still wears the same shoe size that he wore a year ago and he refuses to stop wearing his saltwater sandals. He is who he is and he makes no apologies. Oh that we could all be as self-assured as Creed.

This year Stella was in 3rd grade. She is still taking Ballet class and she even auditioned for the Nutcracker. She played the role of "Party Princess" and she was so confident and graceful onstage that we all cried when we finally saw the production. She was also the "sister" in the school play and probably did some other stuff too but I have a horrible memory and this is why I need to sit here more often and make a record. Oh, yeah, she works hard at piano and read all the Harry Potter books this year.

Georgie was my first child to officially attend preschool. He also spent a few days every other week at a babysitter's house while I went to school. Her name is Mabi and she is fantastic. It was in her home that he discovered his love of Chiuauas, the game "Jenga," and prepackaged fruit gels that I can only buy at the Latino Market. He is an attentive and kind big brother. He is a great reader and thinks that calculators are a viable substitute for playing on an iPhone. He still loves to snuggle me every chance he gets, but is willing to make room for Lucy when she needs to eat.

We had spaghetti for dinner that night, apparently George needed to save some for later.

Last but not least is my baby girl. Oh, Lucy. She is absolutely adorable. What can I say? She eats, she sleeps, she poops. Sometimes she smiles at us. She has a wicked case of baby acne. Everyone loves her hair. She is 8 weeks old and already she has been to the beach and flown in an airplane to San Antonio, Texas. We know she must be a Rose because she loves road trips. 

2 1/2 weeks old

And there you have it.

I want to paint a more complete picture of what life was like this year, but I don't have the time right now. It was pretty hectic. I was terrible at balancing motherhood, student life, church callings, pregnancy, and everything else in between (like writing on a blog or taking pictures.) I didn't make dinner very often and I missed a few school performances/obligations. In fact, right this moment, I remembered that I was supposed to send sprinkles with Stella to school during the last week for an ice cream party . . . and I didn't. I completely forgot until RIGHT NOW. 

Oops.

(I am on Instagram, are you? @rosiedays, let's follow each other.) (I'm looking at you: tynruby, sarita, sissy, chrissyp, shalise, amy, auprielle, michonne, michelle, becky, and anyone else who is still around but maybe not commenting. Some of you went private and I can't seem to keep up with your blogs. Instagram is far superior for staying in touch.)

Grafton-Ghost Town

I like the family record that blogging creates and I love looking back at the places we have been (both emotionally and physically.) Lately, though, I am consumed with actually living my life as opposed to documenting it online. I guess that is why my posts are lacking in numbers. I like including my thoughts and prose on the things we do, but between my own schooling, my kids' busy lives, and the exhaustion of using my body to grow another baby, I just don't have the will to sit and do it. I want to do better! (I could say that about every aspect of my life.)

This weekend is a holiday weekend down here. No school on Friday or Monday. (I have school, but the kids don't.) Of course, Robert is working. I'm not complaining! I am so grateful my husband has a job that he loves. We just miss him when we are all together and he is not with us. Yesterday we sat around the backyard and I watched my kids make up games together. We spent some time in the hot-tub, but only heated it to about 80° because it was such a nice day. They made up a game of Quidditch which was basically a glorified version of "tag" complete with a snitch, a seeker, and beaters. They played for awhile, then Stella made a picnic and we had lunch outside. Eventually, everyone settled in with books for the afternoon. Creed read up on Dungeons and Dragons, Stella is working on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I'm not sure what Jack was reading, and George continued to play in the water.

Today I took the kids to a nearby Ghost Town called Grafton and of course we ended the excursion with a hike. I handed my good camera to Creed because he has been commenting on the fact that all I use to document life lately is my iPhone. He is right, but I didn't feel like wrestling the dog and the big camera today, so he helped out. Here are some highlights from our ghostly excursion.

This is my favorite shot Creed captured. I call it "Gap & Swirl."

Stella, I adore you.

We got a picture of all the girls in the family: Stella, Me, New Baby, & Ginger. 

I love that Creed tries to get candid shots. In his words, " I like taking pictures of people when they aren't looking at me."

Of course I stole the camera to take a picture of Creed. He WOULD NOT put his arm around Stella or get any closer to her.

With my big belly, it's a little hard to help George navigate the steep portions of a trail. He's lucky to have Jack! I wish Jack were my older brother.

Now I need to go do some last minute studying for a Geology test, then I need to go take it at the Testing Center. After that, we are going to decorate Easter Eggs and watch Les Miserables as a family. Robert and I watched it in the theater, and the kids have been dying to see it. I love that we can just order movies over our t.v. What a modern world!

Stuff My Kids Say

Jack was finishing up a tennis tournament on Saturday here in St. George. While we were watching him play, it was so warm that I was wishing I had worn shorts or a skirt or something.  I finally rolled up the bottom of my jeans. I looked around and noticed that people were swimming in the outdoor pool and lounging by its side in their swimsuits, soaking up the warm rays of our desert sun.

February in St. George is a very good thing.

Then we drove to SLC. While we were there, we were able to meet a few of our friends' brand new babies. Dallas and Shannon have a new baby girl and Robert's sister has a new baby boy. I hadn't held a brand new baby in ages and I forgot how great they are! I am so glad that I am going to get to have that new baby-ness in my home one last time.

As we were leaving Sara's house to have dinner, I said to the kids "did everyone get their coats? George, get your coat."

And he said, with much hesitation, " . . . oh . . kay . . . but mom, what is a coat?"

I love St. George weather. The kid doesn't even know what a coat is!

Caboose no More

Remember how I used to always call George my Caboose? Well, he is going to become a big brother this year. His baby sister is due to make her appearance in mid-May. I can't believe I am going to have five, FIVE children.

Last summer I drove my kids to Big Sky Lake, Montana and spent a few weeks with my mom, Grandpa Jim, my sister, and her kids.

Montana: I totally get it now.

Here are 20 pictures from that trip.

Seeley Lake was the closest town. We enjoyed way too much ice cream from The Ice Cream Shop.

In Seeley Lake

View of the cabin from the lakeside

Have you ever seen a more beautiful hair adornment, or a more friendly butterfly?

The kids spent days catching turtles and filling the paddle boat with them before releasing them back into the lake.

Ready to go mountain biking: don't forget the bear spray!

I can't remember the name of this island right now. Grandma Falls Island?

George and Grant exploring one of the islands

Taking Stella for a ride on the kayak

This was the first time in years that I had seen Stella wear pants!

They are getting so big . . . 

This was Jack's 13th birthday. He is a teenager.

Grant and Grandma on the Party Boat.

Jack and the kid from the next cabin.

Seeley Lake

This is my last baby. I promise.

An Early Memory about Reading

*This is not an update about our life. It's a short essay about an early reading memory I wrote for my Children's Lit class. Double dipping for blog content.*

I remember cinderblock walls. My younger sister and I used to lie down on my bed and play out the stories we listened to on our audiocassettes. 

Sara & Me: ages 5 & 3?

“Cindo-weawah?” Sara would ask. It was a product distributed by Disney. We had acquired a few picture books with accompanying cassette tapes featuring a narrator reading the story aloud. There were portions of the Cinderella tape that were so worn the narrator’s voice went deep and slow for a moment and the tape emitted such a sound that we always held our breath until the voice resumed a normal cadence and we knew it had lived to see another day.

“Sure,” I’d respond as she inserted the cassette.

We settled in next to each other on the bed, with our heads hanging off the long side and our bare feet flat against those cinderblocks.

“When you hear the chime that sounds like this ‘brrriiiinnnggg’,” said the woman’s lovely voice over the speaker, “it’s time to turn the page.”

My suggestion was always the same. “You hold the book and I will be Cinderella.” Sara was an agreeable child and rarely challenged this arrangement. I cocked my head to the side to read along as she turned pages and our feet danced out the storyline on the wall next to our bed.

Her foot was the dog, Bruno, and chased my Lucifer-the-Cat foot across the wall. At the Royal Ball, her right foot, Prince Charming, joined my Cinderella Left Foot, our skinny little legs in contact with each other down to our Underoos. Our feet danced in sync until we heard the “brrriiinnnggg.”

Every now and then dad would come into our room with a bottle of bleach and a washcloth. We did our best on those days to scrub the dirty footprints from the wall, but they were made from cinderblock and weren’t especially clean in the first place.

I think this is the dress I wore on my first day of school.

To this day, when Sara tries on a shoe that is too small, she comments “I look like Cinderella’s ugly Stepsister in this shoe.”